


Entanglement, Estrangement, Entailment

by catie56 (catharsis)



Category: Pride and Prejudice
Genre: F/M, One-Shot, Prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-18
Updated: 2009-11-18
Packaged: 2017-10-03 07:13:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catharsis/pseuds/catie56
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>My knowledge regarding the legality of entails/strict settlements is rudimentary (at best).  However, this is simply what I imagined might have happened, though other scenarios are probably more likely.</p></blockquote>





	Entanglement, Estrangement, Entailment

At first, any idea of a courtship seemed preposterous; there was nothing to indicate any such connection. The principals were circumspect in their meetings, the gentleman reserved and aloof, the lady as cheerful and pleasant in company as ever. Even their friends--including her sister--seemed ignorant of any developing regard between the couple.

Intelligence came from various sources; Mr. Bennet's cousin informed him by letter that there had been talk of an inappropriate attachment before arriving suddenly to confirm the particulars. Though the man was not usually trustworthy in these matters, and most certainly cherished ulterior motives, the evidence could not be denied. Moreover, when the lovers were seen walking the lane to Meryton, Mr. Bennet's suspicions could no longer be rationalized away. He had never believed that a child of his could be so imprudent, and eventually decided on a course of action, precipitated by an uncommon feeling of decisiveness, fearing that the match could produce undesired consequences if disregarded too long.

When Mr. Phillips came with the papers he had requested and a bit of gossip he had not, Mr. Bennet perused the documents carefully, applying his limited legal knowledge to ensure that there were no loopholes. His attorney stood to gain in this business, and the application of obscure but lawful tactics was not beyond possibility; although he had never had reason to mistrust the man, matters of marriage and inheritance were certain to turn even the most upright citizen into a schemer, given such an incentive.

Mr. Bennet had the unfortunate luck to overhear a heated conversation in the drawing room, just as he was ready to sign the contract. The voices, which by now were as familiar as his own, floated toward him.

"Who was her mother? Who are her uncles and aunts? Do not imagine me ignorant of their condition!"

"Whatever her connections may be," came the rejoinder, "if I do not object to them, they can be nothing to _you_."

"You have no regard, then, for the honour and credit of your family! Unfeeling, selfish _boy_! Do you not consider that a connection with her must disgrace us in the eyes of everybody?"

"It will disgrace _you_, you mean. You have always cherished hopes for the advancement of our family and I have never shared your opinion."

"Yes, because you insist on clinging to those ideals you find in your books. Tell me, will they comfort you when you realize you have nothing to provide to your children? What can she possibly bring to a marriage?"

"She is not so friendless as you suppose, and not without resources. Perhaps she is not what you would want--"

"She is not _educated_; she had no governess, she is ignorant and coarse, she knows nothing beyond fabric and lace--"

"You know nothing of her mind, do not speak to me of what you do not understand yourself."

"You have been captivated by her arts and allurements; you have forgotten what you owe to yourself and to your family."

Mr. Bennet was both alarmed at the realization that whatever had passed for courtship was over, and thankful for the measures he had taken now that a more permanent union was imminent. He clutched the doorframe in shock, and for the first time noticed that Sally Hill, who had been polishing the silver in the dining room had crept nearer to the hallway in a posture that mirrored his own.

"You refuse, then, to oblige me." The conversation had continued while he was absorbed in his thoughts. "You refuse to obey the claims of duty, honour, and gratitude. You are determined to ruin us in the opinion of all our friends?"

"Neither duty, nor honour, nor gratitude have any possible claim on me in the present instance," came the biting reply. "I certainly owe nothing to _you_."

It was the same obstinacy that had been there since childhood; he was firm when he felt himself to be right, and would not bend to another's view, entirely dependent on his own perceptions and judgments. He had been caught by her beauty, drawn in by her appearance, and now would judge only by that; Mr. Bennet shook his head at the knowledge that his son would not see reason until it could no longer be of importance. Resolved to forgo any further quarreling, instead he sought to obtain a measure of peace, a compromise which would, at least, protect what was most precious in this world to him.

"Gentlemen." Mr. Bennet's voice sounded harsher than he had intended. This was, after all, his son, embroiled in conflict with a cousin who was nearly a brother. They looked up, startled, Mr. Collins' face red with anger and embarrassment, Francis glaring in fury. "Come into the study," he said to his son. "William," he glanced solemnly at Mr. Collins, "we will speak to you in a moment."

\-----

Her eyes were bright across the candlelit room, and when he met her in the corner, they caught the glow and radiated it back to him.

"Miss Gardiner," he murmured, overcome, as always, by her beauty and her natural friendliness, so different from his own quiet nature.

"Mr. Bennet," she curtsied, with a tilt of her head that was at once coy and demure.

"I have spoken to my father," he said softly.

"Will you now speak to _mine_?" she asked. It was impossibly forward, but somehow endearing. He thought he would never tire of her ability to overthrow the proprieties he found so trivial; she could do so effortlessly, flippantly and he desired her all the more for it. He smiled.

"He was rather shocked by our attachment; my cousin told him something of the rumors in the village. Then your father's apprentice, it seems, let something slip when they met last week."

"Oh," she breathed, and he wished suddenly that they were alone. "My sister, I think, must have told. I could not keep from confiding in her, not now, you see, when everything is so close to being settled." He might have been angry, had she not at that moment placed her hand on his arm, moving her thumb just so, enough to distract him from his worry over the future. "Was he terribly angry?"

"No, though he was not happy. My cousin, I fear, is more upset than my father."

"Mr. Collins?" her voice lilted in that way he loved so well, the octave inspiring thoughts of sopranos and songbirds. "But he can have no great influence, can he?" lowering her voice, she went on, "I must say, he is rather drab, and so… closed-minded." It was the perfect description of his relative, and he knew in that moment, more than when she had listened during their walks and agreed so enthusiastically, that she shared his opinions and believed in his philosophies. He was enchanted.

"We quarreled," he said plainly, regretting that his childhood companion must be a stranger to him now, but unable to countenance William's abuse of the woman he loved.

"Quarrels are such dreadful things," she sympathized, "and I always feel so unsettled by them. I am rather delicate, you know, and _feel_ things so deeply that sometimes I become overwhelmed. You are much _steadier_ than I am, Mr. Bennet. Can our attachment truly be the cause of such strife in your family?" Her blue eyes widened and he felt a stab of pain at the plaintiveness of her tone. "You would not suggest we elope, would you?" Her voice had dropped to a desperate whisper. The suggestion of something so reckless both thrilled and terrified him.

"No, never!" he nearly exclaimed. "That would not be respectable. I would never ask it of you. Never." He shook his head vehemently.

"Oh, thank you," she sighed, "because you know, every girl dreams of her wedding day, of the dress, the flowers, of dancing with her husband," and here she sighed again, with a gentle longing that he found charming. "I could not bear to give that up."

"My father could not bear it either," he assured her, "and has only asked that I appease his cautious nature. He will not refuse us."

"What has he asked of you?" her equilibrium had returned, and with it, the delightful smile he loved.

"There will be an entailment," he said, trying to explain the situation to her without offending those delicate sensibilities once more.

"I do not understand what you mean. My father is the attorney, Mr. Bennet. Surely he can help if there is a legal problem." There was that adorable furrow in her brow, the sweet innocence he cherished in her.

"It is not a problem, exactly," he replied, and he took her small hand in his, thankful that they were hidden by the darkness in their corner. "As long as there is an heir, it is nothing." He smiled into her eyes, at the promise he found there.

"Well then," she replied, and laughed gaily, clasping his fingers and tossing her hair, "our happiness is secure."

**Author's Note:**

> My knowledge regarding the legality of entails/strict settlements is rudimentary (at best). However, this is simply what I imagined might have happened, though other scenarios are probably more likely.


End file.
